


Calyx

by summerphile



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Midnight writing, Unrequited Love, hanahaki, sicheng sorta dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerphile/pseuds/summerphile
Summary: it comes in four stages, the disease.





	Calyx

**Author's Note:**

> i have school in 4 hours so instead of sleeping i wrote THIS senior year is gr8!!! im not dying!!!

**I. Misfortune**

 

A single daffodil. 

 

Yellow petals, bruised at the edges, near separation from it’s delicate arrangement, sinking down into the bottom of the toilet.

 

Taeyong runs his tongue over the back of his teeth, tasting the sickeningly sweet serum from where the petals had been caught between his bicuspid and his molars, his laterals and his centrals. He wipes the spit below his lips with the back of his hand. He gets up from his kneel in front of the toilet, takes three steps to the left until he’s facing the mirror and opens his mouth up wide. 

 

There lays a single, petite petal clinging onto his uvula. 

 

Taeyong throws his head back and laughs.

 

**II. Youthful Love; I Fall Victim**

 

The second time, it happens a quarter past midnight. In his dreams he is falling, falling, falling further- dread overtakes him- his heart beats out of rhythm- 

 

Taeyong wakes up and heaves and pushes and presses from his chest until he is surrounded by the agitating magenta petals of the catchfly, fluttering around him like confetti, mocking. 

 

The only sound in the empty apartment is the echo of his breathing, slowing down until it returns back to normal after his coughing fit. He sits up. He gathers the flowers around him and cups them in his hand. He goes to the bathroom and flushes them down the toilet.

 

A faint buzzing noise comes from the bedroom, startling the loneliness in the home. Recognizing the vibration, Taeyong pads back into the connecting room to the wooden nightstand by his bed. There could only be one person who would be up and functioning at this time of night he thinks fondly, typing in his passcode. 

 

Sure enough, there sits a new text message in his inbox from Sicheng. 

 

**_Hey, we still on for lunch wednesday? havent seen u in a while_ **

 

Tears push at the corners of Taeyong’s eyes, threatening to fall. He wipes the lonesome petal stuck at the corner of his mouth and types his response.

 

**_Of course, @ 2pm like always. go to sleep, idiot._ **

 

**III. Heartlessness**

 

The cafe where Taeyong is seated is warm and welcoming, a safe haven from the frigid weather outside. The gray sky casts a sense of gloominess over the crowds of people trying to get to wherever they need to be, heads facing down to avoid the icy breezes. Taeyong is glad he is indoors, safe from the elements, he thinks as he stirs his coffee idly with the small spoon in his hand. 

 

“So, where have you been lately? You’ve been dead for the past couple of days,” Sicheng jokes from across from him, messily biting into his sandwich. Taeyong feels the corner of his lips twitch upwards at the sight of the other boy’s carelessness. He resists the urge to lean across the table and swipe away at the crumbs left on the corners of Sicheng’s mouth, urging his hands to stay to himself. 

 

“I’ve been busy, you know, college and shit.” Taeyong manages to lie through his teeth. If anything, the past few days had been tumultuous. The flowers had begun to grow roots, slowly making a home in the depths of his lungs. The pain for now is shallow, but it serves enough as a reminder.

 

Sicheng fakes a gasp. “Are you sure it isn’t your secret girlfriend you’ve been sneaking around behind my back?”

 

Taeyong stills. His hand stops stirring the coffee. His lungs begin to burn. 

 

“Holy crap, was I right? Who is she, do I know her-” 

 

“Shut up!” Taeyong yells, standing up quickly from his seat and knocking his coffee over. He hisses as the hot liquid pierces through the material of pants, burning his skin.

 

Sicheng quickly rises as well, his eyes widening in panic. “Wait, Taeyong, I’m sorry I was just kidding-” 

 

He reaches a hand out to clasp Taeyong’s wrist to keep him from moving. As soon as his flesh makes contact with the other’s cold hands, Taeyong rips his hand away as if the touch burnt more than the hot coffee did and keels over. 

 

He clutches his hands over his lungs and begs for air. He wretches out petal after petal. He feels faint, oxygen unable to reach his mind. Sicheng stands helpless across the table, watching his friend crumble before his eyes. 

 

With one last excruciating heave, a full head of baby blue hydrangea falls out of his mouth, speckled with red dots of blood. Clutching to the chair with his life, gasping, he stares at the flower laying so beautifully on the seat, laughing at him. His eyes are dry. 

 

A deafening silence passes.

 

“I-I can get you help before it’s too-,” Sicheng begins to say, his mind still recovering from shock, but before he can utter out his final words, Taeyong grabs the flower and shoves it into his coat pockets before storming out into the austere streets. He tears past the cafe workers asking about his well being, and a thick atmosphere now surrounds the once homely store. The only part of Taeyong that is left behind are the battered petals littering the chair.

 

**V. Death**

 

He hadn’t left his apartment in days. Hadn’t contacted anyone for longer than that, letting his phone sit desolate and alone under his bed where it had fallen. Taeyong’s skin held a sickly pallor to it, dried blood surrounding his lips. His hair was greasy from the sweat produced as he’d bowl over and gag over whatever shade, size, taste of flower his lungs would procure for him to endure that day. 

 

The cure to his suffering lay before him; it came in a little white box, promising a quick and painless fix in neat, simple words. Two pink pills a day, throw it back with water, erase all the flowers, the roots that gripped his lungs, the feelings that caused them in the first place. Move on with your life.

 

But Taeyong is weak; he can’t bring himself to stop loving someone who’d never love him back. He was addicted to the high of the warmth that muddled his brain, the crushing sadness when he’d lay down alone in bed at night, wishing for the presence of a certain person beside him. He knew there would be many to love the younger like he did- better than he did. Someone taller than him and more charming, talkative in the right times and tender when the sun fades away every night. 

 

It’s his stupidity that gets him this far, not even bothering to hurl into the sink or toilet anymore. He lies down on the floor, spewing up bouquets of white chrysanthemums drenched in red. The flowers surround his head like a sick decoration, the final evidence of a one sided affair. At least, Taeyong thinks as his chest caves in for the last time, they’ll find me ethereal. 

 

A final chrysanthemum lays protruding out of the petals of his lips, fully bloomed. It is pristine. 

  
  


**Repeat: I. Misfortune**

 

Sicheng stumbles into his bathroom, drunk. He rips his black suit jacket off and throws it onto the floor, feeling his movements too constricted by the stiff material. In the mirror, his reflection stares back at him; lifeless. 

 

Suddenly, a pain erupts in his chest and he falls over to his knees, coughing. Just barely reaching the toilet in time, he wretches violently until the pain subsides. He opens his eyes.

 

A single yellow daffodil floats in the water, serene. 

 

A sign of misfortune.

 

**Author's Note:**

> uh follow me on twt @00cults


End file.
